


I have a great life. I am a happy person.

by pinkstrawsrawr



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Coffee, Cupcakes, Family Issues, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 08:57:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9227876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkstrawsrawr/pseuds/pinkstrawsrawr
Summary: Dorianshouldbe fond of Christmas, really. But somehow it always boils down to that one thing; spending it with your loved ones.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello reader! I was going to bail on posting this. Hence posting after Christmas. It was actually done well (or well done) before... But then I thought it a shame to just throw away. Sooo... Here it is. I wish you a great 2017 and may all your dreams come true. Or at the very least one or two or three or four :) xoxoxoxo pinkstrawsrawr

Dorian  _should_ be fond of Christmas, really. The gifts, well, not so much giving gifts as receiving of course, but there's also the music that he claims to hate but secretely doesn't. Plus the all around jolly and slightly hysteric mode people are in this time of year. The shopping frenzy! Finally people are shopping as much as Dorian does every other day and that makes him feel great. Like he's been right all year round and only now people are starting to catch up on the idea. Also, as cheesy as it is, he's always liked mistletoes, though he's found himself under one far too selldom. While Christmas are all of these  _good_  things, it somehow always boils down to that one thing; spending it with your loved ones.  
   New Years is easier. He drinks himself into a stupor with friends. Christmas though; people want to be with family. They do try. Well his mother tries. On Christmas day she always calls and Dorian doesn't answer. It's their version of Merry Christmas. His fathers is absolute silence, but that's all year round every year since Dorian left home; ”Very sad and very gay. Peculiar is it not?" -Dorian always tells the story this way because it is easier to make fun of a hurtful matter than to simply let it hurt.  
   Now Christmas is two days away and Dorian is going about his life as usual. Perhaps he's repeating his mantra a few more times than he normally does. The mantra which is:  _I have a great life. I am a happy person_.  
   He started the day with a hot shower, got out and let the steam on the mirror above the sink settle while he chose his outfit for the day. Brushed his teeth. Then he shaved like he did every morning with sharp focus to maintain his mustache.  _I have a great life. I am a happy person_ , he said out loud between shaves and noticed to his great annoyance that his lack of sleep was showing in his eyes. Red and white like candy canes. It is at least a Christmassy look, he must admit. He proceeded to get dressed, but felt wrong in his cashmere sweater and that's how he really knew Christmas was coming. 

On his way to work he made his usual stop at the café around the corner from where he lives. It's a nice enough place, but he hardly ever took the time to actually sit there; he ordered his cappuccino to go every morning. It was snowing today. He could see the appeal when he was inside looking out, but as someone who refused to wear anything on the top of his head, he silently cursed the snow for what it would do to his hair. He opened the door to the café thanking the Maker out loud that he had survived the five minute walk from his flat.  
   "Dreadful weather outside!" He exclaimed to no one in particular and found several heads turned in his direction. Perhaps he'd spoken louder than he'd intended. "Don't mind me," he added. "I just don't like what snow does to my hair. That's all." That earned him a few chuckles as well as a couple of eye rolls. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to take a theatrical bow, but decided against it.  
   Instead he joined the que overcome by a different urge; to feel downright sorry for himself. He probably looked like a drenched cat, but that was the least of his issues. All around him it seemed people were making smalltalk about how they're going to spend the holidays. He was under no illusion that his situation was unique and he usually - yes honestly - made an effort to  _not_ feel sorry for himself. But it suddenly hit him; he's spending Christmas alone. He suddenly regretted calling off his "arrangement" with Bull a few months ago, although he really knew it was the right decision considering Bull wanted ”arrangements” with everyone and Dorian had become greedy wanting Bull to himself. But perhaps he would give him a call anyway. Just to check in. Maybe he didn't have any plans either.  
   It was his turn to order and he hadn't even said hello before Josephine, the barista, started making him a cappuccino. His order was always the same. If one day he would happen to change his mind it would probably shock them both. As she made the drink they made smalltalk as per usual; how are yous and what's-your-plan-for-the holidays. Dorian took out his card, but to his surprise Josephine shook her head with a wide smile.  
   "Already paid for. A man ahead of you in line took care of it."  
   "What? Who?" Dorian looked around him, but couldn't see any suspects. The man must've rushed out before he had a chance to spot him. How mysterious.  
   ”He just left”, Josephine answered, confirming his suspiscion.  
   ”Did he say why?”  
   "Because he had work?"  
   Dorian rolled his eyes.  
   ”Christmas spirit?” Josephine guessed.  
   ”Well if you see him again tell the friendly man I said thanks.”  
   Dorian left, cup in hand, and just maybe, a smile.

After a slow day at work he passed a store selling all kinds of decorations and before he could hate himself for it, he went in and bought a string of small lights which he then put up in his livingroom. It was cosy and lights didn't really have anything to do with Christmas. He made himself a cup of tea while thinking about the mysterious man who'd paid for his cappuccino earlier. It was a good feeling knowing there was someone out there who'd noticed him enough to pay for his coffee. He looked out the window and the falling snow. He wondered if he should start dating again. It had been a while. It was easy enough to meet someone who didn't complicate things and would stop by to share some body heat for an hour or two and then quietly slip away before bedtime. But to date someone? He scrolled through his contacts finding that he had rather many of those. No one that made his heart beat faster though.  
He drank the tea and told himself to shape up. He wasn't lonely.  _Well_ , most people were lonely in a big city. So, he wasn't  _lonelier_  than his neighbor, for example. Although if he listened intently he could hear conversation through the wall along with faint laughter. Two days until Christmas and then life would be back to normal and he would not feel so lonely.  
   He went to bed early.

He showered longer than usual the following morning because he forgot to use conditioner and had to start his routine all over again. Then he shaved and accidentally cut himself for the first time in months. He rubbed the small drip of blood between his thumb and index finger. Red. That's Christmassy too. Thankfully the cut didn't show. He got dressed and left home, stopping by the café before work. He ordered his usual and put the card in, but again, Josephine smiled shaking her head.  
   ”The man paid for you again.”  
   Dorian looked around hoping to catch mystery man in the act.  
   Josephine explained he'd stopped by early today and had ”taken care of it”.  
   ”You mean to say he left money here to pay for my drink whenever I would happen to stop by?”  
   ”Yes.”  
   ”And he didn't say anything?”  
   ”No, only referred to you as the man with the mustache. Also he said to get you a cupcake.”  
   ”A  _what_?”  
   ”A cupcake?" Josephine repeated, laughing. ”He specifially wanted you to have this one.”  
   Dorian looked on as Josephine brought out a huge cupcake with white and red frosting, decorated to look all kinds of Christmassy. She put it in a brown paper bag. Dorian tried to stay away from sweets and though he hated Christmas and by principle never ordered things like gingerbread lattes or Christmas cupcakes because of it, he couldn't find it in him to reject a free pastry. Who was this mysterious man paying for this? As much as Dorian was enjoying this little game, he had to admit it was rather frustrating to be kept in the dark. One time was fine. One time was surprising. But  _two_  times? What did that mean?  
Josephine handed him his cappuccino along with the paper bag. Dorian absentmindedly put his card in.  
   ”No, already paid for, remember?”  
   ”Right”, Dorian said, standing still for a moment. ”Right. Have a good day”, he said before leaving. "And Merry Christmas!" He added, remembering that tomorrow was indeed the big day.

He put his take away cup on his desk along with the paper bag. He let it sit there for a while. Every now and again he glanced up from his laptop as if to make sure the paper bag was still there. And it was. Every time. It didn't move or anything. He opened the bag slightly and peered inside. That frosting did look quite appealing and he really shouldn't, but one taste couldn't possibly hurt...? He scooped up some frosting with his finger, putting it in his mouth tentatively. But  _Oh Maker_. It was heaven. He closed his eyes in pleasure and that's when he heard Sera.  
   ”Are you sucking your own finger?” She asked.  
   ”Yes, I'm going through a bit of a dry spell”, Dorian said.  
   ” _Ugh_ ”, She pretended to shiver. Always so dramatic.  
   ”You said it, not I.”  
   ”Actually, you said it. Wait, what...?” She came closer. ”Are you eating something unhealthy?”  
   Dorian immediately closed the paperbag.  
   ”Of course not”, he snapped. ”Don't be preposterous."  
   ”You are! What is it? Show me!”  
   Knowing Sera would most definitely lunge across the desk to grab the bag from him, he relented.  
   ”If you must know it is some kind of gingerbread cupcake. One of those ridiculous Christmas things.”  
   ”Then why do you have it, if it's ridiculous?”  
   ”Someone bought it for me”, Dorian said and pointedly looked at his laptop.  
   ”Who?”  
   ”I don't know. The barista at my usual place said someone had paid for this and I couldn't say no, could I? It was a gift, after all.” He shrugged his shoulders as if he didn't care, but he really did and perhaps he even blushed.  
   ”Someone? A man or a woman?”  
   ”Does it matter?”  
   While Dorian wasn't showing any enthusiasm, Sera did it for him, clapping her hands eagerly and squealing. It was the most out of character thing Dorian had ever seen her do. It was horrifying.  
   ”You have a secret admirer. And just in time for Christmas and all! It's like he's your secret santa."  
   ”Maybe it's even Santa Claus himself", Dorian said dryly.  
   ”You've never seen him?”  
   ”Never. At least I don't think so.”  
   ”How is it? The muffin?”  
   ”It's going to make me fat. You know what? In the trash it goes.”  
   ”No!” Sera called out, and by the Maker, Dorian could not bring himself to let the paperbag hit the trash.  
   ”Of course not”, he said clutching the paper bag tighter. ”It's delicious. Now if you excuse me, I intend to finish it and I would prefer if you did not watch me. I am more ashamed than you can possibly imagine.”  
   Sera sniggered and Dorian couldn't help but to smile. It was rather silly after all. He shued her away and after she'd closed the door he opened the paperbag again and finished the cupcake in peace. He got some frosting in his mustache, but couldn't find it in him to get annoyed.

And so it was Christmas. Dorian had meant to sleep in, but found himself wide awake at the time he usually got up for work. He tried to fall asleep again, but surrendered soon enough. Might as well get on with it. His mother called as he was making coffee himself for a change. He ignored it as he did every Christmas. A few texts from friends wishing him a merry Christmas, which he responded to. A couple of last minute invitations. No one should be alone at Christmas and all that, but Dorian felt it was best that way. What good would he be to anyone moping around? He drank the coffee, brushed his teeth and showered. Shaved.  _My life is great_ , he said.  _I am a happy person_. Perhaps a bit lonely. But still happy. He didn't need his father's love or stamp of approval. He was a grown man, after all. A  _gay_  man and there was nothing wrong with that. Standing up a bit straighter he styled his mustache with great care. No need to not look his best even though he felt far from it.  
   He put on some classical music, rearranged his bookshelf from A to Z instead of color and then took a walk around the neighborhood to get some fresh air. It was snowing again, but the streets were far less crowded than usual. The café was closed, of course. For a moment he'd  _almost_ forgotten what day it was. Looking at the dark windows he thought about the mystery man who'd paid for his coffee again. Dorian had been hit on before, of course, in fact – it happened quite frequently. Even if being gay was bad, which his father claimed, Dorian had to say he was great at it. No one had ever hit on him this way though. It would've been nice to know who the man was. If he was handsome. Dorian already assumed he was nice because paying for someone's coffee was a nice thing to do. Unless it was some kind of prank he wasn't getting.  
   Home again, he opened a bottle of red wine and curled up in his favorite chair with a book. The letters were becoming more fuzzy the more he drank. And of course this was a great time for texting as well. He sent a dirty text or two. One quite graphic to Bull on what they could get up to after Christmas had he been a naughty boy and by naughty boy Dorian was referring to himself: Bull was the kind who dominated, and if anyone had been naughty it had most certainly been Dorian.  _Merry Christmas to you too Dorian_  was Bull's boring reply.  _Oh well_. One could always try. He faintly remembered making Bull promise to never respond to texts of a less innocent nature. They had both known it was coming at some point and Bull had kept his promise. Good for him!  
He poured himself another drink, started another book, then tossed it away because it was boring and he was too drunk. Still, he started a new one, tossed it away... And soon there was a great pile of discarded books on the floor. In the morning it would be the evidence of a truly wild night in and he would be irritated with himself for messing up the alphabetical he spent so much time arranging. It was a very merry Christmas, indeed.

He woke up hungover, jumped in the shower and then shaved. He wondered what it would be like to wake up with someone on a day like this. He'd had far too few days like that. Christmas time or not. He'd been reckless after leaving his childhood home. Eager to live his life the way he wanted he'd given himself to any man that had wanted him. Not really waiting for anyone particularly good. As a consequence he'd only had relationships where he'd felt used – for money  _and_ affection. Relationships where he'd been cheated on or otherwise lied to. After several bad experiences in a row it became harder to make  _any_ experience happen. Some chances had slipped away because he'd been afraid. Afraid of what? He wasn't quite sure. How is one afraid of love? It took him a while to understand and acknowledge the fear. Getting hurt again. It's easier to not get involved, but if you don't get involved you're left without love and what is life without love?  
   He put the books back on the shelf thinking to himself that he was ready for someone kind. And that maybe he  _deserved_ someone kind. He was too old for anything else, really. Well not plain old just yet, but not as young as he used to be. Some of his friends had families of their own now. A lot of them starting families or at least thinking strongly about it. Dorian was to attend  _four_ weddings next year. The single friends were an endangered species these days, though a few of them were still going strong.  
   His mother called again. She was unusually persistent this year. It wasn't going to pay off. Though she had never said or done the vicious and hurtful things his father had, she had never once stood up for him. She hadn't protested when his father had signed him up for the "pray away the gay" camp and for that he could not forgive her.  
   He went for a walk and discovered to his joy that the café was open today. He merrily opened the door, got in line and his eyes immediately went to the Christmas cupcakes. He couldn't order one, obviously. But then again it was the holidays and since he hadn't celebrated except for finishing a bottle of wine on his own...  
   ”The usual?” Josephine asked.  
   ”The usual”, Dorian confirmed with a smile, and then frowning as his eyes once again went to the cupcakes.  _Oh, damn it all_. ”And  _hm_ , one of those...” He gestured vaguely.  
   ”A  _what_?”  
   ”A cupcake." He had to say out loud.  
   ”Which kind?”  
   ”The one with the red and white frosting, please.”  
   ”Unfortunately your mystery man is sleeping in today”, Josefine said as she started making a cappuccino. ”He usually comes in early, but with the holidays...”  
   ”I was beginning to get spoiled anyway”, Dorian said with a smile. ”I am perfectly humbled now, thank you.”  
   After paying he chose a table by the window. He was going to sit for a change. Thankfully he'd brought a book, but perhaps he would do some people-watching as well. He did like to appreciate and silently judge what people wore and this city had its fair share of fashion; both good and bad.  
   He had just shrugged out of his coat when his cell vibrated, alerting him of a new text message.  
   He looked at it and was momentarily thrown.  
   His mother had  _texted_.  
   This had not happened before.  
    _Please come home. You are our only son_.  
   He put down his cell. He didn't know what he had expected. An apology via text? Certainly that would have been better than  _this_. Please come home so we can remind you that you were never what we wanted. So we can see that you are  _still n_ ot what we want. And to say he was their only son, while factually true, what did it truly mean? It meant they had no one else so they might as well have him anyway.  
   That was simply not good enough. He was worth  _more_ , damn it.  
   He took a deep breath and tugged at his mustache in exasperation. After discreetly making sure he had not tousled his facial hair, he brought the cappuccino to his lips. He took a slow sip as he looked out the window.  _My life is great_ , he thought to himself.  _I am a happy person_.  
    _Right_ , he wanted to scoff at himself.  _And all it takes to break me is a text message._  
   He fixed his gaze on the people passing by, but they were all a blur and he found no joy in it. He longed to be back in the apartment again, curled under a blanket. Maybe watch a syrupy movie. He felt too raw to be out. So, he put on his coat again, left the cupcake untouched and steered towards the door that magically swung open for him. He looked to his side and there stood a blonde man smiling gently at him, as if he knew Dorian was feeling rather weary and needed a small kind gesture from a stranger.  
   ”Merry Christmas”, the man said.  
   All Dorian could do was blink.  
   Up close the man's eyes were... Kind. And had a most unusual colour of amber.  
   ”Thank you”, Dorian finally said with a small nod and stepped outside.  
   Walking away he couldn't believe what an idiot he was. A perfectly attractive man had wished him a Merry Christmas and all he could say in response was _thank you_?  
   ”Wait!”  
   Dorian turned around and there was the blonde man.  
   ”Can I buy you a coffee?" The man asked. "Or maybe not. You just left the café.” He looked rather flustered and his words were hurried. ”Something to eat then?”  
The man seemed to interpret Dorian's silence as instant rejection.  
   ”Sorry, I just sprung on you”, he said. ”I was planning on being more mysterious than this, but as it turns out I'm not very.... _Cool_.”  
   The word ”cool” sounded strange coming from the man's lips and he seemed aware of it. The man was handsome, yes. Tall and broad shoulders. Blonde hair that was slightly curly and then those rather fetching eyes. But his mannerisms and way of speaking reminded Dorian of a puppy who had yet to grow into his legs, tripping all over himself. And that was perhaps more adorable than ”cool”. Certainly not an issue. Dorian liked the man all the more for it. He decided to be bold.  
   ”Did you buy me those coffees, perchance?” He asked.  
   He could've sworn the man blushed. His hand went up to the back of his neck; a nervous habit most probably, but an endearing one at that.  
   ”Yes.”  
   ”That wasn't intrusive. It was very nice. It made my day”, Dorian said. ” _Days_ ”, he corrected himself remembering it had occured on two occasions. ”You also bought me that delicious cupcake. Thank you.” Right, the man had said something about eating. ”I am a bit peckish come to think of it. Something to eat, you said? There's a new Orlesian place just down the street I am dying to try. How about it?"  
   ”I'd love to.” The man's smile was positively beaming.  
   ”I'm Dorian, by the way. Dorian Pavus.”  
   ”Oh!” The man exclaimed realizing they had not introduced themselves. ”Cullen Rutherford.”  
They shook hands very formally and Dorian tried to hold back a smile.  
   "So Cullen", he said. "Why did you buy me those coffees?"  
   ”It seemed like you were having a bad day", Cullen answered warily as if he wasn't sure if he was being presumptuous or not.  
"I was having a bad day", Dorian admitted suddenly feeling the need to clear his throat before speaking another word. He was still reeling from his mother's text and the emotional turmoil that was the holidays. Now to find out that this stranger had noticed him being miserable and had paid for his coffee to cheer him up? "Right!" He exclaimed, getting a grip of himself before turning into a blubbering mess scaring Cullen away in the process. "Shall we go?"  
Cullen smiled widely in response.  
  
   They headed down the street together.

 


End file.
